For the Better or the Worse
by Swyfte
Summary: This is my first challenge for ImagineClan, about a young she-cat named Soottail struggling to live with herself after a traumatic incident.


An image rippled in the surface of the stagnant brown puddle. In it she could see the vague outline of her face, the thin slivers of her silvers whiskers, sombre green eyes and her dull grey pelt. It was all the same, just as it had been that morning, yet everything had changed. There was a faint pink scratch along one cheek. It was the only sign of the day's ordeal. The only physical sign, at least; the she-cat was sure she had scars running as deep as her soul.

"Soottail," someone whispered. It broke the grey she-cat's concentration and she looked away from her reflection. Her mother, bearing the same green eyes and grey fur as her daughter, stood at Soottail's shoulder. She was smiling sympathetically, but she didn't know what it was like, what was going on. She didn't know how mere hours later, the young warrior was being plagued by guilt and loneliness.

"Soottail, the sun's going down. They'll hold the vigil soon," Pebblefeather murmured, flicking an ear towards the darkening sky. Like a coward, the yellow sun was sinking behind the forested horizon, as if hoping to flee the dark day and its haunting memories. Soottail wished she could disappear with it, and run right off the edge of the earth. Unlike the dutiful sun, she wouldn't be returning in the morning. But she knew she couldn't. She had duties, an apprentice, a friend... Only, now she didn't. Not anymore.

She had all night to dwell on that fact.

Silently, Soottail raised herself to her paws- when had her joints become so stiff, her muscles so reluctant to move?- and followed her mother to the center of camp. She suddenly couldn't look at anything, anyone but her paws, dull and boring and slightly too large as they were. At least staring at them was better than staring the consequence of her reckless actions right in the face.

She managed to look up when Brackenstar commanded the Clan's attention. His face was calm; the polar opposite to the feelings that writhed within her.

"Today is a sad day," he began. It was an understatement, and Soottail's temper flared.

_Sad? You dirt-for-brains, this is the worst day of my life!_

"Today we have lost a loyal warrior, a loving mate, a doting mother." The pale brown tom bowed his head, and the rest of the Clan followed suit. As Soottail lowered her gaze, it accidentally roved over the prone body of Frostwhisker. Her silver fur was still sodden, her stiff limbs splayed against the dusty ground. She averted her gaze as quickly as she could, but the fleeting sigh prompted a wave of nausea. She held back a retch, but there was nothing in her stomach.

The sun slipped behind the horizon and the sky turned dark. There were no stars; only clouds and a faint grey silhouette of the moon.

Brackenstar lifted his head, and after a moment, so did everyone else. "To remember and honour our fallen warrior, we will spend the night in a vigil without sleep," he solemnly intoned. Small murmurs accompanied his words as everyone steeled themselves for a cold, long night. Leafbare was hardly the time for a vigil.

The first minutes crawled by. Small conversations died down. Cats huddled close together to share their warmth, but Soottail was isolated from the groups; even her mother had left her alone. She had no other friends to offer her comfort. Her sole companion and confident lay dead on the ground and Soottail highly doubted she'd ever have another. That was fine by the grey warrior. She just wanted to be alone.

Her memories wouldn't let her. Like flies to a carcass, they buzzed around her head. Images, sounds, scenes and scents, until she was forced to remember.

_"Hey, Soottail," Frostwhisker meowed. She was trotting across camp, her two kits clinging to her shadow like stray scraps of moss from an old and stale nest. One was Stonekit and the other was Dawnkit; Soottail could never remember which one was who since they both looked exactly like their mother. Pale, sleek silver fur and grey dapples. Their eyes were still blue, but when they matured they'd have her large green gaze. _

_As Frostwhisker sank to her haunches beside her-only- friend, she shooed the pair off to play with the other litters. A fond smile played across her lips. For a moment all Soottail felt was a flash of envy; she, growing up, had always been the one wanting future kits, a mate to love. Neither of those had been in Frostwhisker's agenda. She wanted to be deputy one day; a typical warrior's dream._

_That hadn't happened of course, but Frostwhisker reminded Soottail daily that she was happy with her life. The life that should've been Soottail's, by all rights._

_Then the petty moment was over- they did that, came in starts and stops- and she grinned broadly at her friend._

_"Fallenfrost gave me the day off," she said smugly. "She said I impressed her with how much I caught yesterday."_

_Frostwhisker snorted. "All you did was bring back a sparrow and a vole!" she protested, but she was laughing._

_They had fun times together, just the two them. It had always been that way and as far as Soottail was concerned, it would always _stay_ that way._

_"We should go fishing," she suggested, and Frostwhisker frowned._

_"I dunno, Soottail. I sorta agreed to hunt with Swiftclaw today. We haven't done anything like that since that kits were born." The silver she-cat wrinkled her nose and gave the other warrior an apologetic look._

_"I understand," Soottail replied sullenly. "You go off and have fun. I told Mallowpaw that he could do what he wanted today, but I guess I'll teach him how to fish instead." Understand her breath, she added, "The lazy oaf better do what I tell him this time and_ not_ fall in_."

_She stood up and shook the dust off her pelt. She was only partially disappointed; Frostwhisker always seemed to pick her mate over her best friend. It was so common it was more of a habit, really._

_"Wait," Frostwhisker called suddenly. Soottail paused half-way to the apprentices' den, where Mallowpaw was no doubt snoring his head off._

_"I'll go with you," she consented, brushing Soottail's pelt with her own. "We haven't been out together for ages and I'm sure Swiftclaw will understand."_

_Without another word she bounded off to tell her mate. Soottail could not hide her smile; she only had one friend and days spent with her were rare. She decided to leave her apprentice to his sleep and padded towards the thorn tunnel that served as an often uncomfortable camp entrance. It wasn't long before Frostwhisker rejoined her and they headed out into the forest. By an unspoken agreement they leaped over the small, muddy stream that cleaved their territory in half and headed for the bigger river. It was a rule, a known and common fact, that it attracted more fish, and though the constantly eroding soil was always a danger it had more potential rewards than consequences._

_Frostwhisker and Soottail had a spot, quite close to the edge of the territory. They'd been fishing there since they were young and naive apprentices. Once, as a 'paw, Frostwhisker had saved her from falling in. They kept this spot a secret, and Mallowpaw had never even seen the place. Today the river was chilling and sluggish. The fish, if any were to be found, would be slow and easy prey. The two settled down on the sandy bank and waited._

_By the time Soottail spotted a fish- Frostwhisker had caught no more than a clump of riverweed- it was near sunhigh. It was not a particularly large fish, thin and long, and a sort of colour like sludge. Soottail tried to scoop it out of the water, but the cold surprised her and her claws only scraped its side. A diluted cloud of red began to seep into the river as it swam hastily away._

_"Mouse dung!" she spat, springing to her feet, eyes tracking her prey's every movement as the current bore it away. She wasn't going to lose this. It was the closest thing to a catch she'd come to the whole day and the Clan needed every piece of fresh-kill it could get. She ran along the bank, hissing at it to come back. It didn't, only tried to flee faster. Yowling something, Frostwhisker gave chase too. They neared the very edge of their territory when the bank began to rise into a cliff. The ground here was soft and crumbling._

_Cursing, Soottail slid to a halt. She watched the fish splash away; she could not reach it, from this height and distance. She spun around, tried to return to Frostwhisker, but the ground gave way beneath her. She began to fall, in a shower of dry earth, her own terrified yowl echoing in her ears. Suddenly there were teeth in her scruff, a weight straining to pull her back over the edge. Green eyes suspended above hers, narrowed with effort. Slowly, painfully, Frostwhisker managed to drag her back over the cliff._

_But the danger was not over yet; yet more ground was crumbling away, into the watery abyss. Soottail had barely a moment to recover before scrambling forward in a desperate burst of speed. Frostwhisker tried to flee too, but she was already falling before Soottail remembered to look around._

_She tumbled off the eroded cliff with a wail amidst a flurry of dead earth._

Biting back a whimper, Soottail crawled a few inches forwards and buried her nose in Frostwhisker's soft fur. She didn't smell like anything anymore. No scents of milk and the nursery, and the stench of decay hadn't claimed her yet. On her other side sat her parents and Swiftclaw, who met her gaze with hollow eyes.

...

When they took her body out of the camp for her burial, Soottail couldn't watch. Her only friend was about to be buried and she would not see her until she died. Or possibly not even then; Soottail was quietly confident the previous day had earned her a spot in the Dark Forest, the Place Of No Stars. She'd practically killed her best friend, who had been a promising warrior, loving mate and queen. Was there a worse crime?

As the days passed, Soottail began to realize that cats were avoiding even more than they usually had- even her own apprentice was relieved when their training sessions were over. She was a loner within her own Clan; before, the only friend she'd ever needed was Frostwhisker. Now, no one _wanted _to be her friend; she was snappish, grumpy, irritable. Maybe Frostwhisker was watching from StarClan, frowning down on her with disapproval, but Soottail didn't need anyone else. She didn't deserve friends.

She had killed.

Maybe she'd kill again.

Some days she woke up with a positive attitude. These were rare, but Mallowpaw cherished them. On these days she thought, _hey, I'm not all bad. It was just an accident; it doesn't make me a monster_. On these days she made an honest-to-StarClan effort to be nice and kind and good. This never lasted for long, but she relished the brief respite from her self-loathing and guilt.

It was on an in-between day, where she could think good things about herself yet point out each and every single flaw she possessed that she saw Dawnpaw and Stonepaw staring at her. They'd been made apprentices a few days before. Soottail thought that Frostwhisker would be proud.

Their eyes had brightened; the colour was a muddle between stormy blue and forest green. Their intense gaze made Soottail uncomfortable; were they blaming her for their mother's death? Silently hating her, vowing revenge? She stopped picking at the half-eaten thrush that lay at her paws. The apprentices, as one, stopped staring and retreated into their den.

Mystified, Soottail got up and went to find the deputy. Her meal was entirely forgotten.

"Fallenfrost," she began, when she'd finally managed to track the elusive she-cat down. "Can I go hunting today, just by myself?"

Narrowing her eyes and suspecting a hidden agenda, the white warrior gave her consent.

A brief, nostalgic walk later, Soottail found herself on a familiar sandy bank beside a familiar sluggish river. In a small, stagnant pool, she caught sight of her dishevelled reflection. Lately, she hadn't bothered with grooming and her grey pelt was dirty and tangled. The scratch on her cheek had healed and left no trace of its existence. Even her eyes were different; narrowed and distrusting. A darker, more depressed shade of green.

How had she changed so much without realizing it? It wasn't just her appearance, she knew. Her personality was harsher, colder. She wasn't the cat she had been, the one who had once known _exactly_ what she wanted, and why. That cat was now a stranger.

She was not the same cat and that stark fact frightened her.

Soottail spent the afternoon sitting on the riverbank and grooming her pelt to perfection. She knew her change of heart was temporary. She'd be grouchy and sullen within the next week for sure. She was a fickle creature, but she'd treasure her moments of lucidity whenever she could get them.

Several cats noticed and commented on her now gleaming pelt. Pebblefeather gave her a tentative smile; for the first time in moons, Soottail returned it.

She woke up in the morning feeling refreshed, rejuvenated and pleased at the prospect of another day.

That was the day she had her first conversation with Frostwhisker's kits. They approached her during the period of Sharing Tongues. Naturally, Soottail had to groom herself. No one normally dared approach her. Her snappish reputation preceded her. She was surprised to look up and see the two apprentices standing in front of her.

"Um, hi," Dawnpaw said. She was now smaller and slimmer than her brother.

"We know you were Frostwhisker's friend," Stonepaw added. They invited themselves to sit down beside her. If they were expecting a retort, they did not get one. Instead they received a bright, sunny smile.

"Best friend," she corrected brightly.

"We just noticed that you don't have any friends now," Dawnpaw commented. Her cheery voice sounded so much like Frostwhisker's.

This made Soottail pause in the process of running her tongue down the length of her paw. "That's true," she agreed slowly.

"Then we'd like to be your friend," Stonepaw suggested. He sounded so young, so naive, Soottail couldn't help but agree, couldn't help but be surprised at the proposal.

That night she Shared Tongues with her new 'friends' while wondering how long this bout of good luck could last.

In fact, it seemed to end that very night. She'd woken from a dark and troubled dream, in which she'd relived Frostwhisker's final moments, her last unearthly wail, over and over and over. Each time her eyes locked with the falling she-cat's, just before she disappeared over the eroding edge of the ravine. She seemed to be mouthing a word as the wind snatched her voice away.

_Soottail?_

_Save me?_

_Help?_

_Swiftclaw?_

She'd never know, she supposed, not if Frostwhisker was in StarClan and she herself was doomed to reside in the Place Of No Stars.

There was a pair of eyes, dark and foreboding, staring her when she startled from her sleep. She recognized the hollow gaze; Swiftclaw.

"I saw you," he said, "with my kits, today."

Soottail braced herself. Her luck had ended, she guessed. She knew what would happened next and resolved herself to her lonely future.

"It was good. They haven't smiled like that since, well, I'm sure you know," he continued.

"I just liked having someone to talk to," Soottail whispered. The admission made her sound like such a loner, a loser with no friends; coincidentally that was exactly what she was.

"I miss her," Swiftclaw mummured, and Soottail agreed with a lump in her throat. Somehow she woke up with her head cushioned against the tom's dark grey chest, staring into his somewhat solemn smile.

Yes, Soottail reflected, she was not what she had been. But that did not make her bad, a monster. She'd changed, maybe not for the better and not for the worst but somewhere in between. She'd never be the same and now, staring at Swiftclaw and hesitantly returning his fond expression, she realized it didn't really matter to her anymore.

* * *

**This is my first challenge for ImagineClan :) Hope you liked it.**


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